


Welcome To The Family

by elisa_anya



Series: Mafia AU Collection [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Mafia AU, Mobster Castiel, Russian Mafia, Slight Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:38:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisa_anya/pseuds/elisa_anya
Summary: Castiel has always been rather mysterious. It’s a bit of a turn on, and what got Dean interested in the first place, but when he learns the truth about his boyfriend's family and that Cas is in danger, it might be a little too much for him.





	Welcome To The Family

**Author's Note:**

> Another Mafia Au for the collection. I might have a problem now.  
> WARNING: brief descriptions of violence, not too much into detail but still, I don't know, might trigger some of you so here's the warning.  
> Enjoy.

Castiel Novak has always been rather mysterious. It’s a bit of a turn on, and what got Dean interested in the first place, but he will never admit that out loud. Instead, he pushes and pushes whenever possible, asks his boyfriend tons of personal questions that are only ever answered vaguely, with words carefully chosen. There’s really not that much Dean knows about Castiel’s life before they met, but he knows the important things and he likes them; he knows he’s kind, always treats Dean like he’s the best of the best despite all the shit he’s done, pays attention to his needs, showers him with affection. Castiel has a deadpan kind of sense of humour (sometimes he doesn’t even  _ know _ he’s being funny), he’s sarcastic and doesn’t break a smile when he jokes, which makes Dean crack up even more. He’s smart too, speaks four languages (sometimes breaks into Russian when he’s too drunk and  _ always _ curses in that same language, which Dean finds hilarious) and is constantly killing it at university on his way to becoming a Linguistic Anthropologist. Despite his vast knowledge in a lot of things, he never makes Dean feel dumber or gives anyone the impression that he thinks he’s better than them. He’s a nice guy, quiet and reserved even with his boyfriend, but he loves with intensity and is loyal to a fault, so Dean will takes his silences gladly and keep all the rest Cas is willing to give.

But just because Dean understands Castiel’s wishes to keep some parts of his past secret, doesn’t mean he’s not madly curious and tries to stock up in any information he can get out of his boyfriend...

Castiel has many siblings, most of them men and older than him, for what he’s gathered after years of being in a relationship together. Dean’s never met them, only knows Cas’ younger sister’s name, Anna, and he’s never even seen a single photograph of any of them. In fact, in Castiel’s apartment there’s not even  _ one _ picture, not  _ anywhere  _ (and Dean may or may not have looked in the drawers in the dormitory hoping to find one hidden there). He’s never met his parents either. He’s got the feeling Cas doesn’t take too kindly to  them, for there’s always this dark shadow in his face when someone asks something about them, especially his father. Dean’s stopped asking; he understands this, after all, since it is painful for him to speak of his deceased mother or the father that all but abandoned him and left his younger brother Sam under his charge when he was nothing but a boy. All of that ended with Dean getting desperate and eventually into trouble, working for the wrong people to get money to feed Sam, which then landed him in prison for a couple of months, so, yeah, he understands that sometimes speaking of certain people brings nothing but pain.

His boyfriend is loaded yet hasn’t worked a single day since they’ve met. Castiel has already paid his tuition fees for the entire school year and never breaks a sweat looking at the prices of the books he’s going to need for the new semestre. Castiel says he’d rather focus on his studies instead of working since he doesn’t have the need to get some part time shitty job. He lives in a very nice apartment, at least twice as big as Dean’s, with modern furniture and a huge TV. He also indulges in luxuries like eating out a lot because he is absolutely terrible in the kitchen, burns everything just by looking at it, so Dean ends up cooking a lot for the both of them because he refuses to be invited to restaurants so often, it makes him feel bad even though he knows Cas doesn’t give a shit when he pays for the both of them. Money hasn’t made him a jerk, though; he’s generous with it and never looks down on those less fortunate than him. Dean’s seen him buying food for homeless people plenty of times, lending money to friends of his that couldn’t afford the new material for their classes, and always makes sure Dean’s got everything he needs and is properly fed. When he’s particularly drunk (which doesn’t happen too often because he can hold his liquor better than Dean, and that’s saying something), he always ends up buying shots for everyone at the bar where Dean works, which creates a problem for him because suddenly there’s an stampede of people hurrying towards the bar to take advantage of the drunk guy’s money. Dean’s got no idea where the money comes from exactly, but is sure it’s from the other’s family that he’s so unwilling to talk about.

Even though he looks and acts like a sweet, little angel most of the time, serene in his spot in some corner of a room reading peacefully, Castiel seems to be slightly more skillful and intimidating than he looks. For once, he can throw a knife like Billy the Kid shoots a gun; his accuracy is uncanny, unwavering. He’s seen the guy play at bars for money, throwing knives instead of darts just because he fucking can and it makes his opponents think he’s got higher chances of failing than if he were to play with the darts... He does, after all, look like a innocent scholar in the making who hasn’t even harm a fly in his entire life. But, boy, are they wrong! Dean’s rarely ever seen him miss the centre of the board and Cas gets this disappointed look on his face when he misses it for more than just a couple of millimeters, like it’s some kind of big disgrace. Still, he always wins and takes the money; not that he needs it, but he sure does love taking money from jerks that look down on him because of his looks. Some get upset, say he cheats (how the fuck can a person cheat at darts is beyond him), try to intimidate him into giving the money back or threaten to start a fight. Dean’s never seen him fight with anybody though, and it's mainly because Castiel has this ability to shut people up and dissolve any quarrel by just looking at them wrong. He’s only seen it a couple of times, but the expression on his boyfriend’s face becomes this thing that is so very different from the one Dean’s presented with when he’s being showered with kisses, it’s something dangerous and, frankly, kind of scary -not that he will ever admit that either. And, well, nobody wants to fight a guy with knives in his hands that he could throw at your eye at any given moment.

It doesn’t matter. The secrets, the half-truths, his past, none of it matters to Dean, not as long as Cas is honest about who he is now in their relationship. He can’t help it, being heads over heels in love with him and he’s long ago decided to ignore all the red flags. Since the very first time Dean laid eyes on him when Cas came into the bar and sat in a corner to  _ study _ in the middle of the night, asking the bartender (himself) for shots of vodka, Dean was  _ hooked _ , at the very least curious and amused by the sight of the other young man. He’d never seen anything like it. Sure, students came in all the time, but to  _ party _ , to have a laugh with their friends, never to study, it was too loud and too dark. But that guy was different. Dean found himself constantly checking Castiel out when he kept coming back most nights to read in his corner, papers scattered all over his table. He didn't even need the other to order the vodka after a couple of times, Dean just did it and then retreated to his place behind the bar, from where he constantly stole glances in his direction. The first time he saw Cas beating a smug, big dude at darts, while throwing fucking  _ knives _ , Dean just had to go and ask him who the fuck he was and what the fuck he was doing studying with shots of  _ vodka _ ,  _ how _ was he even capable of doing that, and if maybe he’d like to go on a date some day.

They’ve been together ever since. Frankly, Dean was a little surprised to have landed such a great boyfriend; Cas was  _ obviously  _ out of his league. He'd thought Cas would just take the chance to fuck him and then tell him he was flattered but not looking for a relationship, Dean was used to that. After all, he was a high school dropout, had been in prison not too long ago, was stuck working in the bar because it was very hard for him to get any other half-decent job, and had nothing, absolutely  _ nothing _ to offer Castiel but his heart. Well, apparently, it was enough.

Dean should have been smarter than that, he’d come to realise later on.

Dean had taken his boyfriend out on a hunting trip for the weekend to celebrate the end of finals. Castiel did amazing in all of them, of course, but in the end he was exhausted and carrying a lot of residual stress, and so Dean thought going on a small adventure and disconnecting from everything would help his brain reboot. Cas liked the idea but only half of it, apparently; he agreed with getting away, but when they arrived at their cabin, they replaced hunting with a lot of sex. 

“It helps my muscles relax,” he’d argued with a lazy grin while they recovered from the second round. Cas looked so beautiful after sex, with that happy glow and dumb, lovestruck expression on his face.

Apparently, all they did over the weekend wasn’t enough to satisfy Castiel because once back in the city, he is pressing Dean against a wall in the alley outside the bar where he works. Cas kisses him hotly in the neck, presses their hips together as he holds Dean’s hands over his head. Dean shudders and bites his lip, grinning. 

“I gotta get to work, Cas,” he reminds his boyfriend.

“Okay,” the other replies dismissively. He nips with his teeth on the spot he knows Dean just loves, right over the artery, and then swipes his tongue angrily over the gentle red mark of his teeth. Dean lets out a shaky breath, rolling his hips against his boyfriend’s because he is a goddamn masochist and wants to get hard even if he needs to go soon.

“Are you listening to me?” he insists.

Dean tries to lower his hands but Castiel holds him in place; he’s stronger than he looks. It’s always been a turn on too, that Cas can manhandle him if he puts his mind to it.

“That little moan of yours, you mean?” Castiel grins devilishly, then starts to roll his hips back against Dean’s forcefully. Dean’s mouth falls open, eyes close. “Yeah, I heard that.”

Cas holds his wrists in place with one hand and moves the other between their bodies, fumbling for his boyfriend’s belt, working it open.

“You know, I love the taste of vodka and your cum in my mouth,” he speaks hot in Dean’s mouth. “So I need you to hold still for a couple of minutes so I can go down on you, and then you can thank me by buying me a drink, how about that?”

He always says that and then never lets Dean pay.

“F-fuck, Cas,” Dean grunts, so turned on he can feel the heat even in his ears.

Castiel chuckles, his lips leaving a trail of gentle kisses until he kisses Dean on the lips, not so gently anymore.

Dean is all too suddenly aware of other people with them in the alley, can hear their footsteps. Normally, he wouldn’t care, wouldn’t give a shit if some perv wants to stand there and watch Castiel go down on him, but Cas suddenly breaks their kiss and turns his head around, his features darkened in concentration.

Two men dressed in black are walking their way, slowly, in an almost predatory way that has the hair on the back of Dean’s neck standing up. Something’s off, he knows it right away. Suddenly, they’re slipping their hands into their coats and Dean’s heart stops for a moment, knowing all too well what they’re about to do. He should run, scream for help, do  _ something _ , but he is too stunned and confused to react. He barely has time to see them lifting their guns at them when Castiel is yanking him down from his jacket, pulling him into the ground behind the dumpster they’d been standing next to. Shots are fired, the otherwise noisy sound muffled by silencers, as Castiel presses his body against Dean’s, protecting him as he tries to cover as much of Dean as he possibly can in case the bullets come through the metal. Dean hears him groan and tense his arms even more around him for a moment and he lifts his head to meet his boyfriend’s eyes, terrified as he checks to see if he’d been shot. He looks down when he feels something wetting the side of his arm and sees Castiel’s is bleeding, blood quickly beginning to soak his shirt.

The gunshots stop.

“Cas-”

“Don’t move,” the other orders sternly in a hushed voice, shoving Dean against the wall as he crouches down by the edge of the dumpster, determinately ignoring his injury while he fishes for something inside his left sock; it’s the pocket knife Dean got him for their first anniversary. He'd meant it as a kind of  _ joke _ , Dean never knew Castiel actually  _ carried it around. _

When the first figure comes close enough, Castiel jumps up, trying to keep his body as small as possible, and delivers a quick blow to their throat with one hand. The man’s free hand instinctively goes up to cover the front of his neck, and while he does that, Cas grabs hold of the hand with the gun, pointing towards the ground and away from him or Dean, as he pushes the knife straight into his opponent’s heart twice in quick movements. Shots are fired as Cas hides behind the man he’s just stabbed, using him as a shield. He pushes the body forwards until the shooter has to move away to avoid it. Then, as he lets the body drop on the ground with a dry thud, the bloody short knife still in Castiel’s hand, he throws it straight at the man’s eye, who cries out in pain. Cas advances towards him immediately, kicks his knee in, which causes the man to fall to the floor on his hands, and then delivers a brutal blow on his temple. He watches their attacker fall on the ground while he takes a fighting stance, breathing heavily. When none of them stand up again, Cas drops on his knees to retrieve the knife and one of the guns.

Dean blinks several times, petrified on the spot 

Cas hurries towards him and crouches down in front of him, giving him a quick once-over.

“Are you hurt?” he asks agitatedly.

Dean wants to respond, he really does, but the sight of his boyfriend covered in blood, his own blood and that of the men he’s just  _ killed _ , plus the gun and the knife dripping blood, are highly distracting.

“I’ll take that as a-”

More shots are fired. They miss Castiel’s back by a couple of inches and Dean finally reacts, pulling his boyfriend’s body flat against him from the front of his shirt. Cas takes that protective position again, shielding Dean from the bullets as much as he can. He then turns around again with that same scary determination and concentration he’d just displayed, not the slightest trace of fear in his face, gun raised in his hand, but before he’s got a chance to strike back, the shots stop and they can hear bodies dropping again.

A pair of footsteps get closer, slowly.

“Cassie?” a careful voice calls. “You there? Don’t shoot, it’s me and Gabe.”

Castiel’s face changes completely. He drops the gun and puts the knife in his pocket as he jumps to his feet, dragging Dean up with his good arm (and thank goodness he does because Dean didn’t think he had the strength in him to get up all on his own) and walking around the dumpster. There are two young, blond men standing under the light of the street lamp, guns in their hands. Afraid of the strangers, Dean moves discreetly closer to Cas, looking for his hand to pull him back but then Castiel breaks into a small run and throws his arms around the shorter man, then the other one.

“Gabriel! Balthazar! What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you!” the one called Gabriel scowls, throwing his arms around in anger. “Where the hell have you been, Cas? I’ve been looking for you all fucking weekend! You’re lucky we got here on time, you fucking dumbass!”

“We thought you were dead, Cassie,” Balthazar tells him in a somber tone, patting his arm. Cas winces in pain. “Sorry. That’s for not answering the fucking phone, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, I left it at home. We went away to a cabin for the weekend.”

“Oh, for the love of God!” Gabriel rolls his eyes all the way back to his skull. “You were playing Brokeback Mountain this whole time!?”

Cas is about to retort something but then he groans again, gritting his teeth together in pain as a hand goes to cover the injury in his arm, which is still bleeding. He looks down at it for a moment, makes a expression mixed with pain and resignation, and covers it again, applying pressure on it.

“We need to move,” Balthazar declares. 

Gabriel nods in agreement. “Come on, Cas, I’ll patch you up on our hiding place.”

The moment Castiel takes a step forward, so calmly, so ready to follow these two men who just shot three other people to death, something in Dean snaps. He can't move, can't follow them like they're buddies going out for drinks. The world spins around him, he is dangerously close to throwing up, and he grabs his head on his hands as he starts yelling at Castiel.

“What the hell are you doing! Where the fuck do you think you're going! You're just gonna go with them? They just  _ shot _ three dudes! For fuck’s sake, you just  _ murdered _ two guys yourself, Cas!”

Castiel turns around and puts a hand over Dean’s mouth to shut him up, but his boyfriend smacks him away, disgusted by his bloody fingers.  _ Unsanitary _ , is the first dumb thought that crosses his mind.

“Stop shouting, Dean!” Castiel hisses under his breath, anxiously looking around the dark alley to see if anyone else is around. No one’s there though, they’re alone with those other two men, and Dean has no idea whether that’s a good or a very fucking bad thing.

“What the hell is going on here!” he asks, eyes wide and crazy. He doesn't understand, can't even begin to imagine what on Earth he's just been a witness to. Those men didn't even try to rob them, and why would they? The way they were dressed and with the types of guns they carried, it was obvious they weren't common thieves; no, those men were trained assassins, cold blooded killers. But why on Earth did they attack  _ them _ ?

“I’m not sure, but they shot at us, what the hell did you expect me to do?” Castiel defends himself.

“I don't know, Cas! I certainly didn't expect you to go all psycho ninja on them!”

Gabriel snorts behind them. Castiel turns around and glares at him, his eyes silencing him on the spot. Apparently not even him can fight that look on his boyfriend's face. And now Dean fucking knows  _ why _ , he knows Castiel is a friggin menace, capable of murdering armed, scary men in  _ seconds  _ with his bare hands. Suddenly thinking back on those nights when Cas won so many games throwing knives at a board are not so amusing anymore, but rather memories of big ass warning signs he shouldn’t have ignored so willingly.

Dean makes the mistake of sparing a look in the direction of the man Castiel stabbed on the eye, sees all the blood pooling around his head as he lays face down on the ground, and Dean bends over himself as he feels the vomit rising inside his stomach.

Cas places a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “Breathe, Dean, just breathe and try to calm down.”

Dean snaps his head up and narrows his eyes at him through the uncomfortable feeling in his body. “Breathe!?  _ Calm down??  _ My bloody nerd boyfriend just  _ murdered _ two men!”

Unable to hold it anymore, his body does a weird movement, like a wave, and he pukes on the pavement. Cas jumps back but gets some of it on his shoes nonetheless. Balthazar makes a disgusted noise and turns his face away.

“That's just gross,” he mumbles.

Dean spits whatever’s left in his mouth and wipes his mouth with the back of his jacket before turning to yell at him. 

“Really? Dead people you're okay with but  _ vomit _ you can't handle? Who the fuck are you anyway?”

“Dean,” Cas takes a step forward and, as if he were repelled backwards like a magnet, Dean takes one back. The physical rejectment hurts and it shows in Castiel’s face, but he composes himself quickly. “These are two of my brothers, Gabriel and Balthazar.”

“And why the fuck did they just shot those guys?”

“Umm, to  _ save _ your sorry ass?” Gabriel provides with irritation, lifting an eyebrow, hands on his hips. “A thank you would be nice, by the way.”

“Fuck you, man,” Dean growls at him, advancing towards him with his hands curled into fists. He’s angrier than he’s scared, if only for a moment.

Castiel stops him, pushing Dean back. He instantly drops his injured arm, though, and a small cry escapes his lips as he winces. His pain snaps Dean out of his anger. He looks down at him, at his arm, and he feels a different kind of fear pooling in his gut; Castiel’s been  _ shot _ . Whatever is happening, whatever his boyfriend's done, it can wait because he is bleeding from a wound he received when he was trying to protect Dean.

“You’re hurt,” he says dumbly, leaning closer to examine his arm.

“It’s fine, it came right through,” his boyfriend assures him, but Cas has always been the type of person who suffers physical pain (or emotional too, for that matter) quietly, so seeing him hurt so openly tells Dean just how serious it is.

“The hell it is, you’ve been  _ shot _ , Cas.”

Dean rips a long line of his flannel shirt and quickly ties it around Castiel’s injury, ignoring with determination all the blood that’s stickying to his hands, the fucking smell of it poisoning the air and bringing him close to getting sick again. Castiel sets his jaw and closes his eyes, suppressing more pain, until Dean is done and he allows himself to take a deep breath out.

They look at each other for a moment, decidedly ignoring Castiel’s relatives, who thankfully know better than to interrupt their staring contest. Cas looks beaten up, and not because of his wound. He looks aggravated and sad as fuck, sadder than Dean’s seen him in a long time. It scares him, it looks like there’s something bad about to happen between them, which seems stupid compared to the dead bodies that lay around them, but then again Castiel has become Dean’s entire life and if he loses him now-

“Cas…” Dean swallows hard. He tries to see the person in front of him as he’s always seen him, that weird, gorgeous dude that made Dean excited to go to work in case he was there that night, reading life away in a corner, laughing on his own when he translated jokes from one language to another one.  _ The textual translation makes no sense,  _ he’d tell Dean while he laughed, and he never knew why Cas found that funny in the first place, but it was endearing watching him smile like that, like the dark cloud that hung over his head and he always tried to hide wasn’t there anymore. “What’s just happened?”

Cas looks like he doesn't know what to say, where to begin after years of keeping secrets.

“You don’t know, do you? You haven’t seen the news all weekend, of course...” Gabriel says. He sounds serious now, all business, ominous. Cas turns his head around, a questioning look on his eyes. “Cas… Dad died.”

There’s a tense silence. Dean doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to read the frozen expression on Castiel’s face. Should he say he’s sorry? Should he reach for his hand, should he pull him into a hug, show support? Cas doesn’t look exactly  _ devastated,  _ though.

“I… Who’s pakhan now?” he asks slowly.

Dean screws up his face in confusion.

“What’s a pakhan?” he asks at the same time Balthazar and Gabriel respond, “Lucifer.”

The way they say it and the way they all remain silent afterwards is a clear sign that, whatever the hell pakhan means, it’s not good that Lucifer is that now.

“But Michael-”

“Is dead,” Gabriel announces, averting his eyes. “Murdered.”

This time, Castiel inhales sharply, eyes wide in shock. This time, he looks really shaken, unlike Dean’s ever seen him. It's not a good look on him.

“So is Raphael,” Balthazar mutters. Castiel closes his eyes and lets his head hang from his shoulders. “I was out of town,  _ thankfully, _ or he would have had my head too. He wants to keep it all to himself, Cas, the entire business. He’ll kill us all if he has to. These men tonight,” he gestures at the bodies, Dean tries his best not to look at them, not even from the corner of his eyes, “are  _ his _ men.  _ He  _ sent them after you.”

Castiel begins to pace, running a hand through his already messy hair, pulling it backwards.

“No, no, no,” he mutters to himself, “I got out, father  _ promised _ me, if I stayed away and didn’t open my mouth, he  _ promised _ me…”

“Not up to him anymore, Cas,” Gabriel tells him, kicking a forgotten bottle of beer away resentfully.

Dean loses his patience.

“Can anyone explain to me what the hell is going on!”

His voice makes Castiel jump, as if awaken from a long dream. He looks at Dean and time seems to stretch as his expression changes slowly, going from that belonging to a handsome young man to something that you’d see in a tired soldier that’s returned home after a long war. There’s that look again in his eyes, like he’s about to say something that’s going to break Dean’s heart. It’s exactly what he’d imagine Cas would look like if he ever were about to break up with him and it makes it hard for Dean to breathe, makes his heart constrict with fear. 

“Dean,” he starts, and it’s enough for him to know that whatever’s coming, it isn’t good. It already sounds dangerously close to a goodbye. “I am sorry but I am in danger. And if you’re with me, you’re in danger too. I… I need to go and I need to go  _ now _ .”

He doesn’t get to move an inch before Dean grips him by the bicep -the uninjured one, of course- and holds him in place.

“Where the fuck do you think you're going?” he growls, sounding angry and demanding where he’s hurting. He's nuts if he thinks Dean’s just gonna let him go.

Cas averts his eyes. “I need to go with my family. They'll protect me. You need to go now, you’ll be better off without me. I’m sorry, I should have never- I should have never allowed you to get close to me.”

He scoffs, swallows the thick lump in his throat. This is worse than his darkest nightmares. “Castiel, are you breaking up with me? Are you serious right now? Do you think you can just leave like this, with no explanation and five bodies behind?”

“You haven’t touched any body, just go home and don’t tell anyone what you saw.”

He grabs Castiel by the shoulders and shakes him, forcing him to look up. “That’s not the point! Forget about the bodies for five minutes, Cas! I care about  _ you _ ! I care about the past fucking  _ years _ we’ve been together, about all the promises we made! You’re really just going to leave me here, in a fucking alley, with no fucking answers? Do I mean that little to you?”

The hurt in his voice pierces right through Cas, who looks at him like he’s pleading Dean to understand something he doesn’t at all. Nothing will ever be a good enough reason for him to end this thing between them, this magic that happens every single time they kiss. He put up with all of Castiel’s shit for years, all too willingly, never complained about it, not once if it meant he got to keep his boyfriend, but if he was going to get left behind, at least he deserved an explanation, he wanted the  _ truth.  _ If this was it, if they were never going to see each other again, if there were going to be no more lazy sunday morning kisses to look forward too, no more walking home arm in arm drunk on the weekends, no more binge-studying together for Cas’ midterms, no more nothing, Dean needed to know exactly  _ why _ or it’d haunt him for the rest of his life.

“It’s because I care that I can’t tell you!” Cas argues. “The less you know, the safer you’ll be!”

“Cas, he deserves to know,” Gabriel interjects, the softness in his voice sounding so foreign in him.

“ _ You  _ shut up!” his boyfriend snaps at his older brother, but this time it doesn’t keep him quiet.

When he speaks again, he’s looking straight at Dean.

“Ever wondered about his tattoos?”

Dean opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. Yes, he has,  _ many _ times. Castiel doesn’t look like the type of guy who has tattoos and he certainly never speaks about them (yet another thing on the long list of things Castiel’s quiet about). Dean doesn’t think his friends even  _ know _ he has tattoos, since he never lets himself get into a situation where anyone could see them, to the point he’s been avoiding going into trips with them to the lake because he’s not comfortable wearing shorts or taking off his shirt in public, which would reveal the tattoos for anyone to see. 

“You said those were bets you lost,” Dean whispers, lost in thought, giving his boyfriend an accusatory glance.

“Ha! A bet!” Balthazar chuckles. “With who,  _ life _ ?”

“Know that star on his knee? It means he’s got authority, it means he kneels to no one. No one but the pakhan, of course, the boss of the whole business. Dad made all of us get one when we turned 16, so people would show us respect.”

“Gabriel,  _ enough _ !” Cas warns him.

“The spider, facing down, on his hip?” Gabriel continues. Dean is transfixed, holding his breath as, finally, he gets some of the answers to questions that used to drive his imagination wild while he tried to guess Castiel’s secret life. “That means he’s left the lifestyle. He’s a good, normal citizen. Got it right before he left for college. I’ve got one too, but that doesn’t erase our third tattoo anyway, does it, Cas? The crown with the halo, on our chests.” Dean knows it, of course he does, he knows them all, doesn’t need reminding; he’s stared at them countless times while Cas is asleep. “That means he’s a Krushnic and a high ranking member of the Russian mafia.”

Dean frowns. He can’t process that, as much as his brain tries to, he can’t. His mind quickly comes up with images of Cas in a suit, shooting people while dramatic explosions happen on the background, possibly snorting cocaine afterwards, and it’s impossible, there can’t be a universe where  _ this _ Cas, the bookworm he’s grown to love, and also a Cas that belongs to the  _ Russian mafia _ are the same person.

“No, but, but,” he stammers stupidly, “but your family name is Novak,” he protests, like that would automatically make everything else invalid, everything that now makes a lot of fucking sense.

Cas sighs, avoiding Dean’s eyes in shame. “No… That’s my mother’s name…”

Dean bends over again, resting his hands on his knees, trying to control his breathing as he feels the urge to puke again.

“Fuck, I always suspected your family was in on something weird,” he mutters, “I just always assumed it was some kind of money laundering on Wall Street or something. Not this. Not… not some kind of Godfather shit.”

“That’s the  _ italian _ mafia,” Balthazar corrects him. “We don’t like them very much, don’t mix them up, boy.”

“Shut up, Balthazar, just  _ shut up _ !” Castiel snarls, irritated. “This is serious! You shouldn’t have said anything, Gabriel! You’re putting him in danger. This are fucked up already as it is, what the hell are we gonna do now?”

“We dispose of the bodies and meet with Kali,” Gabriel quickly explains, “she’s waiting for me back at a safe house. Then we get this show on the road and head back home to reclaim control of the family business. We’ll be the pakhans, all three of us, together.”

“What?” Cas chuckles darkly, humorlessly. “You want to go back? Have you gone completely insane? I didn’t get that fucking spider tattoo for nothing! I’m out, I got  _ out _ ! We should leave while we can, go to New Zealand or something!”

“That tattoo doesn’t mean shit now, Cas, and you know it,” Gabe shoots back.

“We either go back and fight, or Lucifer hunts us down, one by one,” Balthazar says. “We’re stronger together.”

“I’m not going back, forget it,” Cas says. “You go back, Balthazar. Take the bloody throne all for yourself for all I care.”

“It’s not that simple,” Balthazar sighs. “You don’t wanna go back, I get it, but I can’t go and reclaim control by myself. I am undoubtedly popular and charming,” he smirks, probably just to lighten up the mood, although all Dean wants to do is punch him in the face, “but the truth is I don’t have the majority of the brotherhood on my side, Lucifer will overpower me easily. You and Gabriel don’t hold a lot of power separately, both of you have been away for too long and you’re not exactly gang material. No offense.”

Gabriel snorts. “Are you kidding me? I’ll take that as a compliment,” Gabe tells him. “But I  _ am  _ an excellent business man.”

“Exactly,” Balthazar agrees, then looks at Castiel, “and everyone has always respected and admired you, Cas. They still do, even after all these years. You were always good with words, they know you’re smart, they’ll listen to you if you return with us. I know you like this life dad made you believe you could have, and I am sorry I’m here asking you to come home, but I don’t have another choice, alright?” the man admits with a heavy sigh, all smugness gone. “Two of our brothers are dead already, Anna’s missing-”

“What?” Castiel’s face drops. “Since when?”

_ This _ hurts. Dean can tell by the horror in Castiel’s face. Anna, the only sibling he ever mentioned a couple of times, her name slipping out of his lips almost by accident here and there through the years with a longing in his voice that reminded Dean of how much he used to miss Sam when he was behind bars… Anna could be dead. His father’s dead he could handle. Michael and Raphael’s had upset him, but he hadn’t broken down, trying to remain calm and collected under the circumstances, but Anna… Anna was the last straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Can’t get a hold of her since this morning. Now, she might be just hiding, even from us, but maybe-”

“No,” Gabe cuts him, “don’t say that. She’s smart, she’s probably just hiding.”

“Fuck,” Cas mutters, and then he’s screaming the words out, over and over again, as he punches a wall with his bare fists. Dean’s never seen him this out of control before. “Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ !”

Dean hears a crack and winces, then runs to put his arms around his boyfriend and drags him away from the wall. Cas lets him and then turns around on his arms and hugs him with a desperation that breaks Dean’s heart. He buries his face on the crook of Dean’s neck and he’s quite sure he can feel something wet, like tears, against his skin. Castiel holds him so tightly, he might be digging bruises into Dean’s back, but he doesn't give a shit for the moment. He’s more worried that Cas will let go, permanently, forever.

“Cas…” Balthazar begins in a tired voice, a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Cas, we need to go. We can’t just stand here anymore. Please, brother. If we survive this, I promise I will relieve you of your duties in the bratva as much as possible. I just need you to pretend to be your old self for a while, and when we secure our position, you can come back to this life.”

Cas raises his face just barely so his voice won’t get muffled against Dean’s skin.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep…”

A sad silence stretches. Dean can hear the music coming all the way from the bar, cars driving by in the distance. They’re exposed there, anyone could walk by and see them standing next to dead bodies, or even worse, more thugs could arrive at the scene and start shooting at them again. But right now all he cares about is how Castiel’s hands are slowly sliding away from him, the warmth of his body leaving Dean as he sees his boyfriend retreating. He can literally see the other mustering all his courage before he can look up and meet his eyes, reading himself to say the words that will bring an end to Dean’s biggest source of happiness. There’s a thousand unsaid things in that vast of blue he’s staring into, but overall Cas is begging for forgiveness as he also says goodbye without words.

“Dean-”

“No. Cas,  _ no _ .”

Castiel’s lip trembles. “I’m sorry. I have to.”

“You could get  _ killed _ !” 

“Don’t you understand? If I don’t go, I’m dead anyway. At least I’ll have a chance.”

Castiel’s hands keep trailing down Dean’s arms until the tip of his fingers are ghosting over his, the last touch they’ll ever share. 

_ No!  _ a voice roars in Dean’s mind. He interlocks their fingers together once again, unable to let go, and pulls him back into his arms.

“Then I’ll come with you!”

Cas shakes his head in bewilderment. Dean looks as surprised as his boyfriend does for a moment, but then right away he knows he doesn’t have another choice, he knows his life will be over anyway if he lets Castiel walk away right now. He’d never forgive himself, he’d spend the rest of his life wondering what the hell happened to Cas. What if he saw his face in the news one day, what if he hears he’s been murdered too? It would crush him, the guilt and the pain would be unbearable. 

“ _ What _ ? No!”

“I don't understand what the fuck is going on,” Dean speaks quickly and anxiously, “but if you're in danger, I’m coming with you. I’m not just gonna  _ abandon _ you. You took a fucking bullet for me, Cas. Jesus, I love you, I’m not just going to let you go! I promised myself I’d always protect you and I know you’re probably better off defending yourself than having me to watch your back, but I am  _ not _ leaving you alone in this!”

“Dean, you’ve no idea what you’re signing yourself up for,” Cas warns him, pleading him to take those words back, to stay where he’ll be safe.

“No, I probably don’t, but I made a commitment to  _ you _ , and I fucking meant it, Cas. You mean the world to me. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?” 

Castiel swallows hard; he can’t argue with that because of course he would, in a heartbeat, without even having to think about it, like he did earlier when he protected Dean. They love and look after each other, protect one another since the beginning and until the end, however bloody it might get. 

He nods.

Dean gives him a small smile and cups his cheek. “Then let me do the same for you. Let me go with you. Please, you can’t leave me here, Cas. We’re in this together.”

Cas just stares because he can’t walk away from Dean, no matter how selfish of him it is not to do so. He should break up with Dean, right there and then, he should say some stupid lie that Dean would believe, like he doesn’t love him anymore, that he can do better than him, because that’s what Dean’s always believed, but he can’t do that, can’t break the heart of the only person who ever loved him despite all the shit the he carried in his shoulders, not even if it might save him. And if Castiel is marching towards his death, how wonderful would it be for Dean to be the last thing he ever saw? Hopefully the plains in Heaven would be as green as his eyes, the wind would whisper melodies with his sweet voice and they’d see each other again there.

Castiel lets out a deep breath of defeat and nods.

“Okay… Okay, Dean.”

Gabe steps in and offers his hand out to Dean, then says something in Russian he cannot understand. For the dumbest moment, Dean thinks,  _ of course Cas spoke fucking Russian when he was drunk, he  _ is _ Russian! _

Castiel rolls his eyes at his brother, but his grip on Dean tightens protectively as the other two shake hands.

“Err, Cas, what did he say?” Dean asks low on his ear, but the other two hear him nonetheless.

Balthazar scoffs. “All these years with you and he doesn’t speak Russian?” 

“Welcome to the family,” Cas replies to his question. “He said welcome to the family.”


End file.
